Author: darkhavensTitle: Whatever The Lady WantsFandom: Pairing: Stargate Atlantis: John/RodneyRating: RWords: 1308Concrit: Please. If you spot a typo, please feel free to tell me in comments. Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be. No harm, no foul, no money made.Warnings/Squicks/Kinks: Cross-dressingSummary: Rodney loses a bet; John benefits from it. And freaks out, just a little.Notes: Written for my kink_bingo card (here) prompt "Cross-dressing (underwear/lingerie)". This is the second time I have done this to Rodney. He should stop making bets around me. *g*

Something was definitely hinky in the world of Rodney McKay, John could practically smell it. He didn't know what the hell it was, but it was driving him slowly but certifiably crazy.

None of the subtly probing questions he'd asked had procured him a satisfying answer, just a chain of progressively wilder eyerolls and glares that had started out with 'Don't you have better things to do?', through 'Why are you purposely trying to annoy me?' and all the way up to 'The next time Ronon and Teyla look away, I swear I'm going to shoot you!'.

The rapid pace of the escalation of Rodney's ire told John everything he needed to know. Everything, that is, except the why of it all, or maybe the who, and how he was meant to fix it.

By the time the mission was over and his team had made it safely back to Atlantis, John was ready to tear the city apart with his teeth and fingernails if it would only tell him what the hell was wrong with McKay.

From the moment Rodney had arrived in the gateroom, pink-cheeked and breathless, his shirt rumpled and his tac vest askew, John has known that something was amiss.

It was something in the way Rodney moved, the way he held himself just so, more aware of his body than he'd ever been before, at least so far as John was aware.

In a matter of seconds, John considered and discarded the possibility that Rodney had been beaten or involved in some incident that had left him bruised and tender. He knew what that looked like - not to mention sounded like - on Rodney all too well. This wasn't it.

This wasn't anything John had ever seen before.

~

John shadowed an even more oblivious than usual Rodney back to his quarters, slipping in behind him before the door could close. He was bemused by the speed at which Rodney began to strip. His tac vest had hit the floor before John even had time to draw breath, and Rodney's hands were frantically scrabbling at the hem of his shirt when he finally noticed he wasn't alone. He froze like a startled rabbit.

"Colonel… J-John, I didn't reali… That is, I wasn't aware we'd made plans. I'm sorry, but I-I have things to do, right now, and… and you need to… to not be here."

John pondered telling Rodney that his resolve face was looking rather wobbly there around the edges, but figured that would just give him something else to use to deflect attention from whatever he was very obviously trying to hide.

"I'm not going anywhere, Rodney. You've been acting kind of flaky all day, twitching and fidgeting at nothing. Moving like you've got a stick up your-"

John's mind went blank for a moment, whether from shock or lust, he wasn't sure.

"Jesus. You-you're not wearing that plug, are you? I thought we decided that that would be a really really bad idea on an off-world mission."

Rodney looked horrified, but also a little pink around the edges with incipient embarrassment.

"What? No! No, that would just be asking for trouble, with the way our missions usually go. I promise you, I'm not wearing- that."

And wow, if that didn't mean he was wearing something else he shouldn't be, John would eat his boots.

"'Fess up. Whatcha got on underneath your uniform there, buddy? And why are you so determined to keep it a deep dark secret?"

Rodney's hands were still clutching the hem of his shirt, and at John's teasing question they began to wring and twist the fabric, tugging it up just enough for John to see a minute strip of something that looked remarkably like-

"Pink satin?! Rodney, you kinky dog. I have to admit I'm kind of surprised. I never took you for the crossdr-"

"I lost a bet, okay?" He yanked the shirt back down and John tried not to notice how it made his nipples stand out. "It was a stupid bet that I had no business losing and Cad- I don't want to talk about it."

John briefly considered leaving Rodney to deal with his shame alone, but the thought of seeing his nipples - his chest and belly - draped in something as sensual and feminine as satin, swiftly closed the door on that possibility.

Without taking his eyes off Rodney's awkwardly defiant stance, John crossed to the bed and settled down, leaning back on his hands.

"So don't talk. Strip."

The shock on Rodney's face was worth the price he was doubtless going to end up paying for this little stunt, but John was sure it would be worth it. Just the thought of seeing… Oh yeah, he was doomed.

"Show me. Please."

With a final suspicious glare, Rodney tugged his shirt up and over his head, revealing shimmery pink satin that looked amazingly obscene stretched tight across his chest and belly.

"Jesus, Rodney, that's…"

John didn't know how he'd meant to end that sentence, but as incomplete as it was, it was obviously clear enough for Rodney.

"It's been driving me insane since I put it on this morning. Every breath I take makes my nipples rub and drag and-"

John whined as Rodney fumbled his belt open, shoved his thumbs beneath his waistband and skimmed his pants down over his pink satin-draped hips.

"Holy… A teddy? Who the hell did yo- Oh, no. Please, tell me you didn't. Tell me you didn't agree to another bet with Cadman? Didn't you learn anything last time?"

John was really turned on, but he was also slightly freaked by the fact that Laura Cadman was ultimately, though somewhat tangentially, responsible for his present erection.

"I wasn't supposed to lose! I don't understand how she does it. I know the physics backwards and forwards, inside and out. There's no way she should be able to-"

The sight of Rodney standing before him in a too-tight pink satin teddy was a bit of a distraction, especially as the lower half left absolutely nothing to the imagination, clinging to Rodney's cock like it was spray-painted on. Still, the point had to be made.

"Rodney, her father and her grandfather are both demolitions experts. She spent her childhood building little Lego buildings and using modelling clay to shape tiny charges to blow them up. Her father graded her efforts on accuracy and innovation."

Seeing the unhappy twist shaping Rodney's mouth, John leaned forward and grabbed his hips, tugging him into an embrace. When he was close enough, John nuzzled his belly, dropping one hand down to the curve of his satin-wrapped erection. His thumb rubbed tiny circles across the damp tip.

"You know the physics of explosions, Rodney. You know the math, the equations, the science of it all. But Cadman lives this stuff. She can ID an explosive by the touch and the smell. She could shape a charge to trim your toenails without burning your toes."

John pressed a lingering kiss to Rodney's navel, the slick material snagging on his chapped lower lip.

"You can't win this one; you have to stop trying. The first time it was coffee, this time it's… Well, I'm really not sure what she was trying for this time, but I think we can definitely say she miscalculated." John froze, momentarily horrified. "God, I hope she miscalculated. If this was her plan, we…" He blanched. "We're screwed."

"Could we perhaps have the panic attack later? This stuff isn't getting any more comfortable to wear, and I'm sure that, for a while back there at least, we were heading for a different sort of screwed."

Rodney's cock twitched in John's hand as if to reinforce his message, and John rolled his shoulders in a languid shrug.